


wicked for days

by jupiterrism



Series: filth collections [1]
Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, Gundala (2019)
Genre: Filthy, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, anyone under 18 go the fuck away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 08:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21296546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterrism/pseuds/jupiterrism
Summary: In which Ghazul sort of broke Ganda.
Relationships: Ghani Zulham (Ghazul)/Ganda Hamdan
Series: filth collections [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535207
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. i.

"I've told you," Ganda watches as Ghazul keeps walking back and forth in his bedroom, eyes trained on the phone in his hand. If he's not bound to bed, he would laugh at the other man because he's acting like a smoothing iron. "The weather is awful lately. Why didn't you listen and get some god damned rest?" The corner of his lips twitches up at Ghazul's grumbling, though Ganda tries to hide it against the pillow. The other man sure does cut a menacing figure to those who doesn't know him, but to Ganda, he's adorable when he's sulking.

"Ghani, c'mere." Ganda's voice startles Ghazul out of his pacing. He stops abruptly and turns around to lay a glare at Ganda, who's trying to muffle his hacking cough against the crook of his elbow. Ganda catches his eyes soften as he stalks close, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. Clearing his throat, he offers the man a smile. "I've told you I heal quick, so no need to worry. Alright?" 

The other man is still staring at him with disbelief clear in his eyes, so Ganda reaches out while making grabby hands towards Ghazul. He snorts, clearly looking amused despite his worried frown, and slings a leg over Ganda's legs to settle down on his lap. "Don't bother calling your doctor here," he murmurs, voice rough, and he runs the back of his knuckles along Ghazul's cheek and watches in fascination how the man seems to lean into his touch, eyes fluttering close. He's long suspected that his lover slash boss is secretly a cat, though he is not brave enough to utter it out in front of the other man's face.

Despite having his eyes shut, Ghazul is still radiating disapproval and with a sigh, Ganda leans in to brush his chapped lips against the man's cheek. "I'll feel much better tomorrow." In his lap, Ghazul makes a quiet noise in protest but he stops short, opting to lean into Ganda's chest. His face is pressed against his shoulder, warm breath tickling Ganda's neck. There are arms around his neck, gripping on his nape, and Ganda forces himself not to coo at the other man.

"Don't get sick. You'll make things difficult for me." Ghazul huffs, pulling away a little to stare at Ganda and his hand is now cupping the other man's cheek. "Don't get sick," he insists again, still frowning at Ganda, "can't kiss you if you're sick." The last sentence startles a chuckle from Ganda, and he presses his face against Ghazul's shoulder to hide it, lest he makes the other man even more annoyed. His laugh turns into a series of rattling cough, whole body shaking from the exertion. Ganda can feel Ghazul's hand along his back, rubbing in small circles — a small comfort Ganda always relishes, coming from Ghazul.

"Quit drooling on me." Ganda could hear exasperation in Ghazul's voice, but the other man hasn't shoved him away so he counts that as a win. "Now sleep," Ghazul makes to untangle himself from Ganda, but not after he presses a small kiss on the man's forehead, "take a rest so you'll feel better tomorrow. There's something I'd like to give if you're feeling better tomorrow." Ganda couldn't help but perk up at that, but a hand on his forehead forced him to lay back on the bed. He watches as Ghazul fusses around him, tucking the blanket around him — he never knows that the younger man has a protective streak on him, that he could be a hell of a mother hen. Ganda never thought that he would be the receiving end of Ghazul's nagging.

"Sleep, Ganda," Ghazul sends a reproaching glare towards him and Ganda obediently shuts his eyes close, drifting off into a deep slumber.

.&.

Ganda jolts out of his sleep to the steady beeping of his smoke alarm, already rolling off the bed even as he's still gathering consciousness. The smell of smoke and something burnt hit him as he steps out of his bedroom, drawing a sneeze out of him.

"Ghani?" He calls out, noticing that Ghazul is trying to, not so discreetly, usher the grey smoke out of his window. The younger man pauses as Ganda walks towards him, face completely blank of any emotion, eyes cold. If Ganda doesn't know him, he might have thought that Ghazul is plotting his demise — though in reality, it's the opposite. Ghazul is  _ embarrassed _ . "What 're you doing?" Ganda huffs out a chuckle in amusement but Ghazul ignores him in favor to examine him with critical eyes.

There are hands cupping his cheeks, and as their eyes meet, Ganda can see the relief in his eyes. "Still coughing?" Ghazul prods, hands wandering from his face down to his chest, "no fever? Is your nose still itchy?" The younger man's antics causes Ganda to snort a quiet laugh, inciting a narrow eyed look from Ghazul. "What the hell are you laughing at, huh? I'm asking you questions here." Coming from his lover, he might as well pouting with that tone, but he still manages to look intimidating.

"Someone's tetchy." A punch lands on his upper arm, shocking a groan out of Ganda. "Ghani!" Ganda throws a wounded look towards the other man, which he returns with a roll of his eyes. "No cough, no fever, no itchy nose," Ganda says, smothering a grin, "hug me and check for yourself — my body temp is normal."

The way Ghazul keeps rolling his eyes makes Ganda believes that his eyes will roll out of their sockets sometime in the future. But Ghazul has a smile on his lips, painfully indulging, and he steps towards Ganda to wrap his arms tight around his waist. The younger man is lax in his arms, all wide and hard planes under his palms, and Ganda couldn't help but looping his arms around his neck and leans in to inhale deeply. Ghazul smells like smoke and his spicy cologne, a hint of cigarettes underneath it, but he's warm and so very familiar. 

"No fever." Ganda hears Ghazul murmuring quietly, as if he's talking to himself, and there is satisfaction underlying his words. He detaches himself from Ganda and makes to place his palms on his shoulders. "Do you remember what I said last night?" Ganda feels thumbs rubbing along the bare skin of his shoulders and feels a shudder rising up at the touch.

"Hmm." Ganda could never get used to how intense Ghazul's eyes are and he feels heat creeping up his cheeks at the close proximity. "You're going to give me something once I feel better?" he offers, catching the way the other man's stare turns into a leer and his lips curling up into a somewhat dirty grin. Ghazul nods his head, seemingly satisfied, and brings one hand up to cup his cheek. His palm is huge and warm against his skin, and Ganda leans into the touch.

"You _really_ do feel better, don't you?" Ganda could only nod at that, he doesn't know where this could lead him to. When Ghazul supports that very specific expression, there's only two options: either he has a plan for a threesome or he will have Ganda tied to the bed. Ganda hopes it's not the first one, he does not think he's ready to share Ghazul with anyone else. "Because I don't want to get sick too after I do _this_. " With that, Ghazul leans in to close the distance between them, warm lips pressed against his, and Ganda lets out a quiet moan at that.

Ghazul tastes like tobacco and alcohol, and he kisses like he's staking claim over Ganda. Tongue tangling and playful nips on his lower lip makes his breath stutters in his chest, head swimming in arousal and desperation in equal measure. It's been a while — they both have been extremely busy with their jobs that they could only sneak in kisses before they went to sleep. But now that they're finally here — Ganda's brain snags to a stop as he feels hands on his hips, pulling him flush against his lover, leaving no empty space between them. Ghazul eases back from the kiss, panting quietly, though his body is still pressed against Ganda's. His lips are swollen and red, with burns around his chin from the way Ganda's beard is rubbing against his skin.

"Ganda," he starts, eyes a little wild around the corner and the brown in his eyes nearly swallowed whole by black. Ghazul catches himself and takes a deep breath, and Ganda couldn't help but leaning in to brush his lips along the younger man's jaw. 

"Hm?" he inquires, prodding Ghazul to finish his sentence, while nibbling on the skin of his jaw.  _ Something  _ has stirred down there, pressing up against Ganda's thigh, and Ganda trails along the younger man's chest — down, down,  _ down. _ "What is it, Ghani?"

"There's something — I want to give to you." He meets Ganda's stare squarely, chin tilted up with a smug curl on his lips. Ganda lets out a hum, tipping his head to aside at that. 

“Something about _this_?” He gives the other man a gentle squeeze, relishing the bitten off noise that comes from Ghazul’s lips and the way his hips are rocking against his palm. 

“No—” he manages to grit out, and with a groan in disappointment, Ganda withdraws his hand. So they’re not taking  _ that  _ route — he can feel his dick flag in his shorts as excitement drains out of him.

Rather than pulling away, Ganda rests his cheek on Ghazul’s shoulder and peers up at him in curiosity. “What is it then?” The way the man hesitates with his words brings suspicion — Ghani Zulham never dithers. He will go straight to the point, instead of beating around the bush. When Ghazul doesn’t offer anything more, Ganda straightens up, a frown on his face. “Ghani? Is everything okay?” At his words, Ghazul seems to have snapped out of his reverie and instead of answering, he gets a hand around Ganda’s wrist and ushers him towards the couch.

“Sit down.” His tone is final, brooking no argument, and with one last confused glance at Ghazul, Ganda goes to plop down on the couch. Ghazul is still staring at him — one moment he’s standing, one moment he’s kneeling down between Ganda’s spread legs. He has his hands on Ganda’s thighs, gripping tightly, but his eyes are dark with conviction.

Ganda squeaks, legs twitching as if trying to clamp close but Ghazul’s iron grip on his legs is enough to keep him still. “Ghani?” he asks, voice rough, because — it is a spectacular sight, having his lover on his knees, lips parted and acts as if he’s going to eat him whole. Ghazul hums, once again ignoring Ganda's words, and drags his shorts down. His brain stutters to a stop, only distant buzz filling his head and nothing else, as he watches the younger man takes his quickly stiffening member into his mouth. 

Ganda remembers how Ghazul refuses vehemently against being the giving end of fellatio, something about bad memories and trauma and Ganda never pushes him. He doesn't mind giving head — though this is his first time being together with a man, he learns quickly. There were times where they couldn't keep their hands to each other and Ghazul has his own way to show his appreciation for Ganda — wicked,  _ wicked  _ way.

A hint of teeth snaps him out of his thoughts, and Ganda winces a little at that. Ghazul hums apologetically, the vibration sends a shudder through him, and draws a gasp out of his lips. "Ghani," he murmurs, head lolling back, and settles a hand on the back of his head. His movements are slow, something that speaks more of caution and first-time, rather than trying to turn Ganda into a moaning mess. Ghazul glances up at him, his lips curling into a smirk around his length, and he slowly withdraws with a slick noise.

"Why?" The other man raises an eyebrow at him, leaning in again to drag the flat of his tongue along the underside of Ganda's erection before leaving a broad lick on the head. A groan is ripped out of his mouth, grip growing tight against Ghazul's nape, and his hips canting forward. With a quiet hum, as if he's intrigued, Ghazul seals his lips around the head of his length and  _ sucks _ . Another guttural noise escapes Ganda, eyes screwing shut, and as he's about to rock his hips forward, Ghazul pulls away with a loud  _ pop _ .

Ganda tries to take a breath — it's a hard feat since his head is swimming with arousal. "You," his voice breaks and he swallows heavily, starting again, "are you sure?" In front of him, Ghazul is leaning his cheek against his thigh and he makes a contemplative noise.

" Why not ?" The younger man shrugs, wrapping long fingers around his erection and starts to stroke in a steady pace. Whatever expression Ganda is making must be satisfactory to Ghazul, because he leans in and takes his whole length inside his mouth.  _ Oh my fucking God  _ — Ganda realizes as he watches Ghazul sinks down on his erection until his nose is pressed against his pelvis, Ghazul doesn't have a gag reflex. His hips automatically drive upwards, thrusting into the welcoming heat of Ghazul's throat, and lets out a growl.

Between his legs, Ghazul gives him a wink, pink lips spread around his length, and starts to bob his head in earnest.  _ They could make millions,  _ Ganda thinks dazedly,  _ they could make millions if he could film Ghazul sucking his dick. _ And oh boy, he sure does the job like a professional — despite lacking practices. Heat and arousal coil around his spine, slowly pushing him to the edge. All Ganda could do is sit back and let Ghazul do whatever he wants, small noises of pleasure slipping past his lips.

A twirl of tongue around the sensitive head and a hint of teeth that follows are what tip Ganda over the edge, coil snapping and turning him into a puddle of moaning mess, and he comes again and again and  _ again _ , until he's wrung out. Ghazul doesn't even hesitate nor does he push himself away — he sits there, content in between Ganda's legs, and swallows everything down with a loud moan. His throat works around Ganda's withering erection, eyes closed as if he's in a bliss, and he pulls away with a debauched groan. There is a smirk tugging on his lips and Ghazul makes a show of dragging his tongue along his lower lip, and that's it —  _ that's it _ — Ganda urges the man to get to his feet and drags him to his lap.

"Ghani Zulham," Ganda grits out, leaning up to get his mouth on his lover's neck and  _ bites _ down, his hand sliding down Ghazul's sweatpants. "Are you trying to drive me crazy?" Against him, Ghazul lets out a choked off noise, something between a laugh and a moan, and he arched up into his touch.

His erection is warm and throbbing in Ganda's palm, wet on the tip, and who would've thought that Ghazul could get off on giving head? " You taste good ," Ghazul rasps, voice broken and rough, and if Ganda could pop another boner, he  _ will _ . He makes a tight fist and starts to jerk the other man with single-minded focus, relishing the moans that sounds like music to his ears. It's astonishing, how the ever so aloof Ghani Zulham could turn into a writhing mess in his lap, throat bared and lips swollen red, his hips canting up frantically.

When he comes, Ghazul  _ whines _ , soft and breathy, in contrast to Ganda's groan. He slumps forward to rest his forehead on Ganda's shoulder, still panting heavily and looking dazed. Ganda could swear there are stars in his eyes — or he might be biased. He slowly withdraws his soiled hand from Ghazul's sweatpants and licks his come off his palm, watching how Ghazul's eyes are tracking tongue with great interest. Ganda has to admire Ghazul's sex drive — that man is insatiable most of the time.

They're sitting still for a while, content being in each other's company, before Ganda lets out a quiet hum. Ghazul is heavy, heavier than he looks, but Ganda just loops his arms around the other man's waist. "Why, all of a sudden—?" His voice trails down, unsure, and Ghazul peers up at him. He gives a shrug, eyes slowly fluttering close.

"Just wanna," he murmurs against Ganda's neck, breath tickling his bare skin, and that's it. Knowing Ghazul, Ganda knows that the other man won't bother elaborating and he lets himself be content with that. "Cut the cigs." He hears Ghazul grumbling, one eye slitting open to glare at him, "it tastes bitter." Ganda feels his face heats up at the implication and as Ganda is about to sprout out words of protest, Ghazul snorts against his shoulder.

"If you quit smoking," Ghazul's voice startles him once again and Ganda glances down at the younger man. He has an impish smirk on his lips, something that screams  _ beware! _

" _ If you quit smoking, I'll let you use handcuffs in bed, on me _ ." It is safe to say, Ganda's brain refuses to work after those words and Ghazul settles back against him with a grin on his lips.

  
  



	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More "talking" ensues and there is leather-based stuff involved.

"Nah, thank you."

Ghani stops abruptly, the cigarette box forgotten for a moment. He watches Ganda with a wary stare, unable to comprehend the other man's words. The subject of his scrutiny only offers him a faint smile before he takes a sip of his wine. "What do you mean by 'nah'?" he demands, because Ganda never rejects a chance to smoke.

The man in question only shrugs his shoulders, sending him a sheepish smile over the rim of his glass. "I quit." 

"Are you sure?" Ghani couldn't help but asks once more, making sure he doesn't hear it wrong because Ganda smokes like a chimney all the time and to hear him saying 'I quit' just doesn't sit well with him.

"Yep. Definitely sure. I haven't smoked for nearly three weeks." The other man sounds really proud about it, to Ghani's amusement._ Huh _, why didn't Ghani notice the change. He still gives the other man a suspicious glare but promptly lets go, lighting the stick in between his lips. Smoke billows as he exhales, muscles going lax, and he watches in fascination the way Ganda's eyes are locked on his lips.

He sets the cigarette on the ashtray in front of him and absentmindedly runs his tongue along his lower lip, again, Ganda's eyes are following its movement. _Poor guy _. Ghani siddles closer to Ganda, placing a hand on top of the man's thigh just for the sake of it, fingers tracing along the seam of his pants. Against him, Ganda stiffens for a brief moment. "Why?"

He doesn't expect Ganda to stutter — Ganda he knows is radiating confidence, though it dims slightly when he was around Ghani. Was, before they slept with each other exclusively. Now the man is very at ease, exchanging banters and laughters every so often.

(Are they dating? No idea, but Ghani hopes so.)

Ganda seems to sputter at the question, cheeks flushing bright red and at Ghani's confused gaze, he only waves a dismissive hand about it. "No specific reason! I, uh, I want to stop because. Because, um." Ghazul's hand on his chest stops him — he looks like he's about to hyperventilate.

"Breathe, darling." The nickname slips past his lips with ease and judging from the slight widening in Ganda's eyes, he feels equally surprised. Not wanting to be called out, Ghani continues to mask his embarrassment. "Because?" he prompts, staring right into Ganda's eyes despite the heat on his face.

The other man just stares at him quizzically before shrugging a shoulder again. "I want to get in shape, start a healthy life and all that," he mumbles, eyes cast downwards. Ghani knows he's lying, but what could possibly make Ganda to quit smoking?

"Hey." A tap on his shoulder draws him out of his reverie and he finds Ganda smiling at him, fond and indulging. "Come on, let's go back to our room. We have to fly back home tomorrow morning." His eyes dart across the bar quickly, and before Ghani has the chance to ask something, warm lips closes against his. The tangy wine is sharp on his tongue, and as Ghani licks into his mouth in retaliation, he could feel Ganda leaning into him. They part after a moment, panting quietly against each other's lips.

The place is sparsely populated and no one will bat an eye if the patrons find two men kissing the daylights out of each other. With that thought, Ghani leans in again, relishing the noise Ganda lets out against his lips as he sinks his teeth on Ganda's lower lip.

.&.

They day starts like usual: Ganda wakes Ghani up with a kiss and laughs as Ghani swats him away. He then urges the younger to get off the bed because their flight is soon and Ghani grumbles, but he's arching into Ganda for a kiss. They end up making out in bed, morning breaths forgotten and their hands roaming across bare skin.

Ganda is a cheerful presence next to him, all smiles and soft eyes — in contrast to his appearance when he's around other parliament members and Pengkor. He was the boss of the thugs, but when he leans in for a kiss with a grin on his face, he looks nothing like the fearsome thug leader. 

As Ganda fusses around, Ghani's mind keeps flashing back to their conversation last night. Why did he stop smoking? Is Ganda sick? Is it about the cigarette? Is it—

Oh. _Oh _, he remembers now. Ghani couldn't believe the other man, he was actually joking when he said that.

"_ If you stop smoking, I'll let you use handcuffs in bed, on me. _" God, Ganda could be really dense at times. If he wants to spice things up, he could've just said that to Ghani — he's open to many _things _, however kinky and unusual Ganda's ideas are. Handcuffs is nothing to him, basically vanilla.

"Ganda," he calls out to get the man's attention and jogs towards Ganda. He's staring at Ghani, pausing in the middle of dragging their luggage.

"Sleep at mine tonight." With a hum, Ghani sweeps his own luggage from Ganda's grip and replaces it with his hand. Ganda flushes a little at the gesture but he gives his hand a squeeze, lacing their fingers together. They can't have this back in Djakarta, so better savor the moment.

Next to him, Ganda tips a shoulder up, nodding his head. "Alright. But I have to stop by my office first, if that's okay?"

Ghazul nods his head, scooting closer to his lover and leans in to peck his cheek — last chance to show his affection in public before they board to Djakarta. "Sure. As long as you stay the night in my place."

"I'll drop you in your office, since you left your car there." And I'll go somewhere to find a handcuffs, Ghazul hums with a smirk. There are tons of shady stores in downtown Djakarta, selling sex toys and a variety of equipments to _spice _things up, and Ghani wouldn't mind if he has to pay a hefty amount of money to get the good stuffs.

.&.

It's sometime around 6 in the evening when the front door slams close and Ghani abandons his laptop to head to the front. Ganda looks slightly ruffled, a frown on his forehead — it brings something unsettling in Ghani to see such expression on the older man's face. He came to care about his supposedly subordinate.

"Is everything okay?" Ganda lifts his head at Ghani's voice from the hallway, the frown dissipates as their eyes meet. _God _, Ghani thinks internally, _that man is so, _**so**_whipped for him _. And vice versa, a small voice at the back of his head supplies.

Ganda offers him a slight smile as Ghani comes into arm reach, placing both hands against Ghani's cheeks. "Peachy keen. Pengkor was just being difficult, that's all." His face is sort of pinched, but if Ganda refuses to tell him more, he understands. Ghani leans in for a kiss, tasting the sharp tang of alcohol against Ganda's lips, and wrapping his arms around the man's waist. Their lips move against each other gently, tender, and despite Ghani's excitement, they manage to keep the kiss chaste.

"Go take a bath," Ghani murmurs, eyes fluttering open after he pulls away, "you stink." Ganda lets out an affronted noise against him and he untangles himself from Ghani, but not before stealing another kiss.

"Don't bother making dinner, I'm not hungry." As Ganda leaves to the bathroom, Ghani couldn't help but thinks — _yet, you're not hungry yet _. He's sure that Ganda will be hungry after he is finished with him.

.&.

Ghani manages to corner Ganda right after he gets out of the bathroom, still smelling faintly of soap and dripping water all over the floor. He couldn't help but scrunching his nose up — telling Ganda to use his towel properly is like drilling a hole into a giant boulder, a hard feat. Though there is something different with the man after he took a bath —

"Did you trim your beard?" Ganda beams at him, his hand is now patting his now neat beard. He looks… soft, even more so with the smile. Ghani reaches out to touch his cheek, coarse hair tickles his skin but not unkempt anymore. "Looks good on you." And if his voice grows a little hoarse at the sight of Ganda and his newly trimmed beard, Ghani hopes no one will call him out on it.

Ganda chuckles at that and leans in to sneak in a kiss, lips brushing softly, before he pulls away. "Ah," Ghani murmurs, catching the other man's arm in his grip, "wait, I want to talk about something."

An expectant look is aimed this way and Ganda turns around to face him properly. "What is it?" Something flickers across his face, but Ghani waves it away 

"I remember why you stopped smoking." It's amusing how Ganda turns into three shades of red at his words and starts spluttering on nothing. Ghani watches, deadly fascinated, as Ganda flails around, nearly dropping his towel to the floor. "Well, since you have proven that you really quit smoking, I guess it's time for the reward, isn't that correct?"

Ganda gapes at him, silent for a moment, and _oh dear, _did Ghani break him? Before he could offer something, Ganda shuffles away from him, eyes downcast. Ghani frowns, isn't he supposed to be excited?

"I," he mumbles, still looking oddly nervous, "I don't know how to. I've never done it before." Ganda meets his stare squarely, as if daring him to mock him. But contrary to that, all Ghani wants is to coo at the other man, despite him being years older.

Taking a step closer, Ghani goes to loop his arms around the man's neck, leaning in so their noses brush. "If you want it, I can teach you." He hears sharp intake of breath and arms raising to hug his waist, pulling him flushed against Ganda.

"I think I'd like that." And it feels like a victory as their lips meet again, slow at first before his impatience turns it into something smoldering and desperate, his hands clutching Ganda's bare shoulders. There is a hint of teeth against his lower lip and Ghani retaliates with a sharp nip, relishing the moan Ganda makes. Goosebumps raise along his bare skin and Ghani takes a great interest in tracing them with his fingers.

Something is pressing up against his thigh and with a gleeful chuckle, Ghani runs a hand down along the older man's torso. He really _does _get in shape. Though his muscles aren't more pronounced compared to his, his chest and stomach are firm against his palm, the skin warm and soft. His hand drifts down and settles on the front of his towel, drawing out a moan from Ganda as he squeezes firmly. "Come on," he murmurs against Ganda's lips, lips brushing with each words, "let's take this to bed."

To say that Ganda's nervous energy doesn't affect him is incorrect — the way the older man seems to be buzzing with anxiety nearly makes Ghani snaps at him, but he knows Ganda is just being his usual self when facing something new. "Relax." Ghani gently pushes the other man to sit down on the bed, trailing his hand along the bare shoulder and arm, before he goes to rummage through his nightstand. "I'm going to make you feel good, don't worry." He straightens up, a pair of leather handcuffs dangling from one finger.

"You are serious," Ganda utters out after a moment of surprise, voice laced with disbelief. His face is flushed red but, Ghani is pleased to see, his erection hasn't flagged down the slightest. 

With an exasperated roll of his eyes — _of course he is serious _— Ghani makes his way back to the other man, a smirk on his lips. "Of course I am, what did you take me for?" He weighs the cuffs down, catching the way Ganda keeps throwing a worried look at it, before he comes to a decision.

"Since I will be teaching you," he starts, unclasping the leather with deft hands, "you're going to wear this." The leather is soft but strong, and he hopes Ganda won't chafe as Ghani fastens the cuffs around one wrist. Ganda is silent, only staring blankly at his bound wrist.

Ghani half expects the older man to look at least nervous, now that they're getting things real. But he looks rather… dazed, and as he glances up at Ghani, his eyes are dark with want. "Do you like it? Is it too tight?" Ghani tips his chin up gently and the way Ganda stares at him makes arousal roils in his stomach. The other man shakes his head, a jerky movement, and that makes Ghazul hums quietly before he leans in to brush his lips on Ganda's forehead.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Alright, now up. Lay down." With a gentle pat on Ganda's chest, Ghani sends the man into a fumble as he tries to scoot up and lies down on the bed. He watches Ganda settles down before he sheds his clothes off — he's in the mood for some teasing tonight, and he hopes Ganda won't be too angry at him after they finish.

Ghani hums, straddling the other man's hips, and he leans in to loop the chain between the cuffs around the metal bar of their head rest before clasping the leather around Ganda's other wrist. "What are we going to do now?" From underneath him, Ganda tugs at his wrists. The chain won't budge, of course, Ghani bought only the best for him.

Glancing down at Ganda, Ghani cocks his head to a side, considering. "What _I'm _going to do is have fun with you. What you're going to do is watch and learn." He can't believe — it's exhilarating that Ganda trusts him this much. Seeing the older man laying down underneath him, hands bound and eyes dark with lust sends a heady rush through him. Power is addicting, and to see that Ganda voluntarily hands him the control to his body is a different kind of thrill.

And the way Ganda keeps staring at him, as if he hung the fucking moon — _God, _Ghazul prays fervently, swooping in for a kiss. He's careful not to squish the other man, he knows he's not exactly light, so he balances himself by his knees rather than leaving his weight for Ganda to take. He scoots backwards until _something _is poking his ass and he grinds down, swallowing down Ganda's loud moan. 

The chain clinks as Ganda reaches out, or _tries _to, but he stops abruptly, movements contained. "Ghani." His voice has dropped into a low growl and he squirms as Ghani leaves a bite on his neck.

"Shush," Ghani tuts disapprovingly, sliding down to press small kisses along the other man's chest and abdomen, scattering marks everywhere. He feels a vicious sense of pride at the sight of Ganda, all bare and _marked _— mine to see and care only, his mind supplies. Ghani splays a hand over his chest, raking his nails down the man's stomach to leave red welts across the skin, and to see him moan is gratifying. 

It sends relief coursing through him when he knows that Ganda also gets off on pain, _slight _pain. So Ghani sinks his teeth against one hip bone hard and watches in amusement at how his erection twitches next to his face. He curls his fingers around the base, squeezing gently to draw another moan from the man. "It's fun, isn't it?" Tongue runs messily across the length before it dips on the slit, and as Ganda lets out another guttural groan, Ghani sinks down _all _the way.

The noises Ganda make are the best, melodious, and does a stroke to his ego. None of his previous partners are this responsive, this eager. None of them trusts him like Ganda does. 

Cheeks hollowed, Ghani bobs his head in a slow pace, relishing the way the older man shudders and trembles under him. He wants to make sure Ganda enjoys this as much as he does — with that thought, Ghani pulls away after running his tongue around the head, bitter-salty precome dripping to his tongue. Above him, Ganda looks dazed. He's panting, chest heaving, and there is a fine sheen of sweat on his skin.

"Since you can't use your hands now," Ghani starts calmly as if they're talking about the weather, "I guess I have to do this myself." And put on a show with it, just to see Ganda's expression. Coating his fingers with lube, Ghani leans in and reaches out _behind _, sinking one finger into him. He has a hand propped against the older man's chest but the angle is uncomfortable — his wrist aching after he adds another finger.

Ganda is watching him raptly, lips parted, and he almost looks like he's in awe. Keeping their eyes connected, Ghani gives him a smirk until he breaks into a breathy moan, fingers are brushing against _something _inside him that sends a jolt of pleasure through him. "Fuck, that feels good, huh?" Ghani shudders, three fingers deep and he knows that Ganda knows how _good _it is. The older man sounds serious, though there is a playful lilt in his voice. "Come on, Ghani, bet it will feel much better when you have my cock inside you."

His words startle a groan out Ghani, and he sends a surprised look towards the other man. Ghani knows that Ganda has a penchant in running his tongue off during sex, but never this blatant. And it's a surprise that he likes it, _a lot _. "Say that again?" Dislodging his fingers with a hiss, he scoots backwards until the other man's cock is sliding along the cleft of his ass.

"Ghani," he groans, head falling back in frustration and desperation. "_ Please _." And Ghani chuckles, Ganda is always so polite during sex and it's endearing.

"Always so polite. Alright, if you say so." Ghani reaches for a rubber — he's in no mood to be dripping messy with come and lube — and after drizzling a copious amount of lube, Ghani sinks down slowly.

_Fuck _, he forgot how big Ganda is. He has to take a deep breath because his head starts to swim all of a sudden — it _stings _, the kind of pain that gets him even harder. Sliding down slowly, Ghani lets out a shuddering breath as he sinks all the way down, the sensation of being stuffed full sending sparks of pleasure through him.

"Fucking _hell _, Ghani, so tight," the other man grits out from underneath him, hips flexing a little and driving his cock deeper inside Ghani. A breathy whine escapes his lips, and still with a great amount of caution, Ghani moves.

His thighs quiver slightly under the strain, but the way Ganda's cock keeps brushing against his spot deep inside him sends electric jolts all over him, sending his vision blurring with pleasure. Ganda is loud underneath him, low growls and guttural moans slip from his lips, and Ghani has to lie if it doesn't tip him closer to the edge. 

"Ghani, untie me," he manages from his gritted teeth, voice rough in his throat. "I can do it harder, _please _." Ghani lets out a shaky laugh at that, still bouncing on his cock.

"Is that all you can do? I'm disappointed." Ghani lets out a loud, startled moan at the sudden hard thrust, glancing back to see Ganda has his feet propped flat against the bed and now rocking his hips up with force. "Fuck, do it again." Ganda obliges, the force knocking Ghani's breath out of his chest.

His cock is leaking, every thrust sends him spiralling closer to the edge, and the way Ganda keeps hitting his prostate with deadly precision won't make him last longer. He's a coil, ready to snap, and Ghani bows his head a little, the pleasure starting to grow overwhelming to him. "I'm close," he grits out, voice reduced to a mere whisper.

"Yeah, come on, come for me." And that's it, he's _gone _— Ganda's husky voice tips him to his release and a whine escapes him, breathy and long-drawn, as he comes all over the other man's chest and stomach. Ghani shudders violently through his release, muscles clamping down on Ganda's cock, and with two more hard thrusts, Ganda also empties himself into the condom. Ghani should've had his phone out to record their voices because _God damn it _, Ganda's grunts are going to be his masturbating materials. 

They are both panting heavily and Ghani slowly lists forward to press his forehead on one broad shoulder, mindful of the wet patch on the other man's stomach. His thighs are trembling and this equals to three workout sessions, but this is worth it. He presses a kiss against the bare skin, tongue darting out for a taste.

"Ghani." His voice rouses Ghani out of his reverie and he glances up, raising one eyebrow. "My hands are numb."

"Oh." Ganda automatically has his hands on Ghani's waist after he's free, keeping him close. Ghani is still striding his waist, hands on his chest, and there's a small smile on his lips. "Did it hurt?"

Ghani watches with relief as Ganda shakes his head, returning his smile. "Not at all, it didn't even chafe."

"That's good." With that, Ghani has his head on Ganda's shoulder, practically lying on top of him. Silence dawns on them, something that speaks of awkwardness and — "How was it?" Ghani holds his breath, because if Ganda doesn't like it, then Ghani did it wrong —

"Honestly? I liked it." He could hear the embarrassed tinge in Ganda's voice and he notices how his cheeks are now flushing red. "I liked it a lot." Huh, who would've thought Ganda has a submissive streak in him.

Ghani pushes himself up to stare at Ganda properly, keeping the smile off his face, before he leans in to brush his lips against Ganda's cheek. _Thank you for trusting me, _Ghani doesn't say, but judging from the way Ganda's eyes soften, he understands.

"Do you mind teaching me more, Sir?" That startles a laugh out of Ghani and rather than answering, he leans in_ — yes, yes, yes, I'd do anything for you, please never leave, let me keep you — _for an all-consuming kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain is made of filth apparently . thanks for the ideas, guys .

**Author's Note:**

> i fear nothing


End file.
